Snow

From the Beijing Train Station to the corrupt police on the far Eastern route of the Russian Trans-Siberian Railroad, the 2008 movie Transsiberian was enjoyable to watch having dealt with many of the same problems…ok minus the kidnapping part.  Not so much for the plot as for the accuracy the movie portrayed when depicting a couples ride on a Chinese train and problems with Russian police.  Although we did not go on the Trans-Siberian…yet, the movie was thrilling to watch as an American couple from Iowa, Woody Harrelson and Emily Mortimer, left the Beijing Zhan (station) headed for Moscow via a 6 day journey on the Trans-Siberian Railway.  The train-station, gray colored everything, sleeper cars, and food carriages, were right on and I would believe it was filmed on location.

Emily Mortimer’s character was always planning a new route or travel adventure and walked around with a Cannon Digital camera around her neck throughout the whole film – which reminded me a lot of Lauren.  The broken sleeper-car knobs that wouldn’t turn off terrible Russian music, the shared cars with strangers, the rude and short tempered train attendants, drug smugglers, and corrupt cops were a direct parallel to our experiences en route from China through Kazakhstan to Uzbekistan.  Although the plot got extremely more creepy in comparison to the things that happened to Lauren and I, if you have traveled throughout the former Soviet Union, Russia, China by train, or are interested to see what it looks like, I think people would find certain aspects of this couple’s travel accurate.

Going through Kazakhstan we were hiding from the police as their boarded our train trying to avoid paying bribes, watching all the drug smugglers hide taped packages to their stomachs or under their beds, and arguing with the grumpy train attendants. Our train travel in China was pretty easy going and we had no problems, but the movie gave a good atmosphere to some of the fears you develop as you go into less safe areas ruled by corrupt cops and officials.

For a more detailed clip go to:  Transsiberian Part I – watch from 4:10 to about 9:00 to see a little bit of what it was like.

Our apartment

As we pack up our apartment I’m reminded of when we first moved to China and began looking for a place to live. The process of apartment hunting in China is vastly different than in the States. Here, you find a local agent in the area you want to live and go to their office. You describe what you want in an apartment to the tiniest detail. While you wait (“would you like more tea, sir?”) they search online listings and their own reserve of available housing. After a half hour or so of searching and phone calls the realtor puts on his or her jacket and you march of, always on foot, to view the apartment. You arrive at the apartment and it is in shambles. In the US, realtors ensure the house is looking its very best before they show it. In China, you must see potential instead of beauty. One apartment we saw was so filthy we left footprints in the grime and dust as we perused the layout. Another apartment we viewed was covered in moldy, dirty dishes and overturned furniture. It was as if the residents quickly packed a few belongings and ran out in a hurry.

We saw about ten apartments before we found one we liked. We were shown several apartments that did not meet our criteria because the realtor gets paid by how many times he can show a place. Once you express interest the landlord and the realtor begin to scream at each other over price, additional fixtures, cleaning, etc. After an initial bartering phase the realtor reports that the lowest the landlord will go is, for example, 5,000RMB. You act offended and counter, naturally, with 4,000RMB. The landlord pretends not to hear you. Once the realtor turns and gives the counter-offer to the landlord he or she erupts in a stream of rationalizations for the 5,000RMB price. Eventually (after much bartering) the price is settled around 4,300RMB with a few extras like a cleaning crew to sweep through and a replacement chair for the office.

Now comes the tricky part. Money needs to be exchanged on the spot or else the landlord will not hold the apartment. Usually one month rent is put on the table. The realtor takes the money to appease both parties. The whole process takes less than half an hour. A move in date is set and when the happy day arrives the realtor emerges with contracts, candies, your deposit and a big smile – the realtor’s fee is one month’s rent split between the landlord and the renter.

There are, of course, apartment postings on craigslist and other expat sites. But usually these are more expensive and it is a bit harder to find someone who will sign on the spot. We recommend playing along with local custom and finding a local realtor. If a realtor does not find you an apartment you like you do not owe them anything. They only get paid if they please you, and the landlords whose apartments they show. The downside is that the realtor has no incentive to help you barter down the price, as he is merely helping to lower his commission.

For a two bedroom in Shanghai on a subway line we paid 4,300RMB a month. The

place was western in style with a tub, fully-stocked kitchen, wrap around sofa and big screen and an office. Our last apartment in China was tiny, with a fold our bed and a kitchen that stretched into our laps in the living room at a price of 3,000RMB a month. Our first apartment in Beijing had no toilet and a sink that spewed brown liquid and tiny insects but cost only 1,200RMB a month. So, you can find something at every price range here.

HUtong

For the holidays this year my little sister flew into China via our week together with our brother in Japan. We took a break to hang out in Shanghai, even sticking it out over Christmas- when we climbed to the top of the JinMao Tower and walked around both the east and west banks of the Bund, before shopping and grabbing a nice Chinese meal for Christmas dinner.After the festivities of taking morning pictures we decided to trek to the Shanghai train station where we purchased tickets to Beijing the following Saturday.

The night trains are the only way to travel in China. You board in the evening (ours was at 8:30pm) and arrive the following morning after a night in a tiny bunk 12 feet off the ground, ready for your next adventure. Once in Beijing, we strolled to Tienanmen Square to gaze at the smog filled walkway and gateway to the Forbidden City. Afterwords we headed to a friend’s house, where we dropped off our heavy packs and then ventured out again to HouHai Lake, in Northwestern Beijing. The lake was frozen over, and skaters skidded across the ice, unsure of themselves. We strolled around watching them slip and slide about the lake before eating a massive Chinese dinner and heading to Sanlitun, the bar street, where we picked a quiet place for a few quick drinks before the long walk home.

The next day we saw the Forbidden City- a wonderfully intricate red, green and blue structure where emperors had once ruled. Two years in China, and I’d never been! I was happy to walk around the frozen palace, though the wind burn began to make smiling difficult after the first two hours. We then headed to Yashou- a shopping mall for antiques and other nick-nacks where we had foot massages to heal our sore feet. In all, we had walked 13 hours that day.

The following morning we relaxed a bit and headed to the Temple of Heavenly Peace, where we walked for hours around the gardens, surrounded by black crows and a few other brave tourists. We then did a self guided tour of the rebuilt hutongs along south Tienanmen.

The next morning was the 31st- the last day of 2008- and we got on an early morning bus to Badaling, a section of the Great Wall quite near Beijing. We arrived to freezing winds and very few tourists, and for the majority of the hike we were alone on the wall. The Great Wall is really more of a climbing ediphis than anything meant to keep someone else out. Beautiful though. After a quick nap we headed back out to Tienanmen for New Year’s Eve, where we assembled at the entryway of the Forbidden City with others celebrating the new year, and counted down to midnight in unison before cheering, hugging and then heading home for a night of much needed sleep.

The night train back to Shanghai was as old and rickety as the one we had been on a week earlier. I love the train, and slept fitfully but happily, it was in all a very fulfilling trip, and a great way to spend the New Years!

-posted by lauren.

Vince Vaughn

We finally arrived at the baseball stadium, though an hour and a half early. There were over forty volunteers checking tickets and working security machines. I took out my camera, aimed it at the volunteers and was instantly tackled by a young man saying in broken English, ‘no pictures!’ I laughed and said back in English, ‘no pictures at the Olympics. Are you serious?” He was not laughing.  I put my camera back in my purse, shrugged and walked towards a metal detector.  Another volunteer yelled towards the back of the procession in Chinese, “hey, can we let the foreigners in yet?” Mike and I looked at each other in awe. Chinese visitors were already streaming into the area, why wouldn’t we be allowed in. Someone in the back yelled an affirmative and we went through security. Mike’s cargo shorts beeped each time the volunteer swept the wand over his legs. It would beep and Mike would say, “keys” and the volunteer would not and sweep another beeping area, “belt,” “camera,” “sunglasses,” “change.” This went on for quite a while, the volunteer never asking to actually see inside the cargo pockets to see if Mike was telling the truth. He was. But naturally it was funny because it just as well had been “knife” “gun” “mace” and the guard would have nodded and moved on. Meanwhile, an aspirin container in my purse was being emptied onto a metal table. I explained that they were vitamins. He asked why some were red and some were white. I explained, without batting an eye, that they were A and B vitamins, and possibly C in there somewhere as well—have to keep the body healthy! Aspirin is prescription only in China and one cannot carry pills without prescription.

The baseball stadium was a small assemblage of temporary scrap steel twisted into the façade of an arena. We walked along the outside for a long while until we finally found out sector. Outside the heavily guarded entrance was a concession stand. Beer was less than a dollar! We loaded up on beer and sugar popcorn and headed for out seats. The whole area was empty so we sat together. After a few minutes two Americans showed up and sat next to us, one was from Boston and looked like Tony Sapprano. The other was from New York and looked like he might have been a club bouncer. Mike offered to  buy them a beer and boom, we were on the good graces of the American mob, which was comforting. We wished we were sitting somewhere else.

Tony Soprano yelled at the Cuban team as it took the field. Naturally, we yelled along with him after he nudged me with his elbow and gave me an urging look. We drank out beer, cheered for the good ol’ boys and generally had a great time.

After a few disappointing innings we found ourselves in the unfortunate situation of being out of beer. Mike made the trek to the nearby concession. While he was away a familiar looking gentlemen sauntered by us and sat towards the back of the stadium. I recognized him from somewhere but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Then Tony Soprano stood up on the bench and screamed, “we fucking love you Vince Vaughn!” I was astonished! Not only did Vince turn, but seeing the giant and the mobster, he smiled and cheered on the American team in unison with the mobsters. I sat petrified, meanwhile, at being in the middle of such an awkward and embarrassing scenario, and I wished Mike would hurry back with the beers. Liquid courage. After another round Mike and I went up a few steps and talked to Mr. Vaughn. I had my picture taken and Mike shook his hand and he instructed us to enjoy the rest of the game. I felt bad for the man, who was sitting alone and would have liked to ask him to come sit with us if it didn’t mean including the mafia. We were all smiles as we sat back down. Neither one of us had ever met a celebrity—he was amazingly normal. Totally drunk, though, as one should be at a baseball game.

-posted by Lauren.

Scalpers in Beijing

I woke up at 6am, still on the train in my mini-bunk. I rubbed my eyes and, out of the corner of my sleepy vision, saw a Chinese local with a business suit on standing in front of Mike’s bed—watching him sleep. Somewhat startled and unsure of how to react, I simply watched the man silently. Eventually he bored of his voyeurism and wondered down the hall. I rolled over onto my stomach and washed my face with a napkin dampened in bottled water, then finished my book. When I was done I looked over and woke up Mike and told him about his on-board fan club.

We arrived in Beijing two hours behind schedule, and happily so. We were on our way to drop off our backpacks at Dale’s house. Dale recently took a ‘real’ job where he previously played a certain card game for income. His roommates all made money in a similar fashion. Needless to say, they lived in the penthouse of a downtown Beijing apartment, literally a two story (with two balconies and four bathrooms) suite. The fish tank in their entry way was larger than the walking area of our entire apartment.  At 11am, when we arrived, no one was awake—having suffered a serious night of drinking and playing the previous evening. We knocked to the sound of our own echo.

Eventually a very friendly hangover answered the door. We were later to learn his name was Ben. His girlfriend, Kristy, was sleeping soundly—unamused perhaps at our ‘early’ arrival. We set down our bags and hooked up Mike’s laptop to their Wi-Fi to search for tickets. The games, sadly, were sold out. We wondered if coming to the city on a whim with no plan was a bad idea….. and then we found online scalpers.

Online scalpers are a strange lot. They openly advertise aspirations for an illegal transfer of money for tickets—something the Chinese government fought earnestly against. Craigslist.com and other social selling spots were brimming with tickets to every possible event—though at a markup, of course.  We quickly found tickets online for a reasonable fare to the Cuba vs USA baseball quarterfinal game. They were RMB 300 each, not bad.

After calling the ticket holder on the craigslist posting we were advised to trek to a specific street corner near the subway, once at that street corner we were to call the ticket holder again and he would deliver further instructions. Now, we had been watching the hit TV show The Wire, and were amazed at the similarities between dealing drugs and dealing tickets. The phone rang as we stood at the street corner, dripping sweat and wonderment. We were to head into a nearby building and await further instructions. We did do, giddy at such a silly secretive illegal dance for something that was blatantly posted all over the web (with IP tags).

A kind, overweight Armenian man came out of a nearby elevator and spotted us on the phone. He marched over and made small talk—making sure we were in fact the saps who were overpaying for baseball. We assured him we were. He produced the tickets in a sealed envelope with Mike’s name written on it. Very subversive! I put the tickets, labeled with Mike’s name, into my purse. Meanwhile Mike reached for hit wallet. The Armenian screamed and then looked around the lobby. “Not here!” and then he marched off down an unlit hallway. Confused, and somewhat too honest for our own good—we followed. In another lobby, with CCTV coverage of the whole area staring back at us as the Armenian put his palm out under Mike’s nose and looked around suspiciously. A real pro.

With the transaction complete we sat in the cab silently blinking away amusement at what had transpired. I pulled out the envelope with the tickets. Despite having watched The Wire, we had not checked the ‘purity’ of the goods. I starred at our seat assignments- the tickets were not for the same row or aisle, though they would be in the same general area. At least, we sighed, no stadiums had appeared full on TV—maybe we would be able to swap with someone?

-posted by Lauren.

We went up to the Beijing 2008 Olympics on a sudden impulse. It wasn’t because we were so much swept up in the fervor as just tired of feeling left out. On a Wednesday evening we were watching the Olympic men’s gymnastic team competing and looking at the crowd of screaming, crying fans wondering if we’d ever be so gullible as to scream for nationalism.

Apparently we are. Thursday morning I told my boss I was thinking of vacating the office early that day. I called Mike and propositioned. Naturally with a little sweet talk and some womanly maneuvers I had him agreeing to an overnight train ride to Beijing in no time.

I left work that same evening at 4pm on an excuse of packing and passing out business cards. I jogged to the Shanghai subway and boarded the metro—itchy and anxious for another adventure. It felt like I had been stable for far too long (though it had only been two weeks!).

When I got back to the apartment I was ecstatic with energy and adrenaline. I walked in the door, and embraced my baby.

After a shower we realized we had no time to properly pack, and each threw a few shirts into separate backpacks, grabbing toothpaste and random accessories as we reached for the door. We were nearly late getting to the Shanghai rail station because our cab driver (an over-weight smoker from south China with a thick local accent from years of fitting in) pretended not to know the fastest route north.  Eventually, and several mini- panic attacks later, we arrived just in time to race down the tarmac to our train car.

Boarding our car, we were encountered with a stench that can only be described as ‘travel smell,’ it’s a disgusting mix of body sweat, excitement and laziness. I love it. Imagine sawdust and a urinal, mixed with egg whites and a bit of bark.

Our bunk (it was a sleeper car) was in the middle row, car 6, bunks 3 and 4 to be exact. Bunks come in rooms of 6, with one and two on the ground level with two above that and two more hugging the ceiling. The middle row has a nice view of the scenery.  I lounged in my mini-bunk, reading ‘Men without Women’ a Hemingway book my father had recently sent me from Afghanistan where he was working. I nearly finished the book when exhaustion and excitement mixed inside me and made me fall asleep, the book resting on my chest.

-posted by Lauren.